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Eingardt
Survivor and young refugee of the sack of Stormwind as well as the siege of Lordaeron's Capital City, he harbors an abiding hatred for the orcish race. While others may find strength in the Light, he puts his trust only in his own sword arm. Summary Forced to flee Stormwind at the end of the First War and driven from Lordaeron by the swell of the undead masses, for Eingardt the time has come to stand and face the enemies of mankind with all the tenacity and strength of the Alliance. Quotes "Whether by sword or by sickness, death comes to us all." "Don't put faith in any powers, tales, myths or monsters. The only thing you can really trust is the strength of your own arm." "Been on the run my whole life. From the horde. From the blighted undead. And from myself too. I'm not running anymore." Backstory Escape from Invasion Eingardt remembers them. He was just a young lad who'd barely even begun to learn to read when word of them first reached his ears. His sister doesn't remember; she was too young, just a suckling babe when the orcs arrived. He remembers how he would sit by her crib and listen to his parents talk about strange creatures from deep inside the swamp killing travellers and soldiers. They sounded like all the other stories about monsters and demons, stories to scare little kids with. He knew he was too old for those stories. Strange to think how much things would come to change because of them. Within weeks the stories had grown to raiding parties of green-skinned monstrosities in the mountains. In months the mountain passes were lost and the forests were beginning to burn. The voices of Eingardt's parents grew more frantic as each day passed. He had already started to help his father in his workshop occasionally, but as the orders from the army started coming in larger and more frequently he found himself running errands in the shop almost every day. The work helped to put the invading armies out of his mind but even still he caught people whispering about the war going poorly. The Redridge mountains were overrun and there was word the orcs would be at the gates of Stormwind before long. And so he woke up one day to shouts from the street, fear gripped him and he bounded to his feet. Running to the front door he saw his parents talking wildly with the neighbours, the bells of the town hall tolling wildly through the morning air. He thought he could hear great drums in the distance but the voices of the people streaming from their houses quickly drowned out any other noise. His father scrambled back inside and found his blacksmith's hammer. His mother and father embraced so tightly and for so long he thought they might never let go before they broke apart and his dad burst through the door and ran down toward the keep. His mother quickly turned to Eingardt and barked at him to fetch his sister. She began to hurriedly rummage through their cupboards, knocking most of the items to the ground and tossing a select few into a small chest. Together they joined the throng and carried his infant sister and what few meaningful possessions they had down to the harbour. For weeks after he knew only the smell of other people, loaded onto a creaking ship with the other refugees. Only a handful were those he knew but most were utter strangers to him. He had never even realized there were so many people in Stormwind before. His mother was quiet, focused on keeping his sister calm; she would tend to answer in few words, or often none when his questions turned to what had happened to his father and the city. The nights began to grow colder but huddled together in the barren hold of the ship they managed to keep warm. A Fresh Start When they finally arrived in Southshore it was, for Eingardt, like stepping out into a new world. The trees weren't the lush green they were in Elwynn and the climate was much more dreary, but the air was crisp and the feeling of leaving fear behind invigorated him. The days that followed were ones of ease, though perhaps not comfort. The accommodations for the refugees were cramped but they were decently fed and were free to come and go as they liked. The three of them would go laying under the trees outside of town, watching the birds and enjoying the breeze. They began to see their mother going off with a particular Southshore man each time they came back from the fields. They came to learn that the man was a priest of the Holy Light, leader of the town's local congregation. Before long they, as well as a handful of others, were being invited to live in newly constructed homes near the church. It was an improvement over the rough quarters they'd had, but Eingardt wasn't sure how he felt about this new masculine figure in his life. He'd still never gotten an answer from his mother about what had happened to his father back in Stormwind, though he'd gathered enough to form an answer on his own. But the man was kind to them, he was as devout a follower of the light as any of his order and always made sure that they were taken care of. His mother and sister had started to pay more attention to his teachings but for Eingardt, lessons about trusting in the Light fell flat. He knew that the Northshire clerics had trusted in the Light as well, and the orcs had cut them down just like all the rest. The year passed moved past softly and Eingardt's family was beginning to heal. His sister was chatty and eager to learn to read. His mother was growing strangely large in the belly, but then they were all being fed quite well, noticeable better then they had been in Stormwind in fact. But when the stories came of the approach of a vast fleet of orc ships, he felt his world begin to crumble once more. Even the appearance of a younger brother, fair haired and bawling, was not enough to occupy his attention. His sister took to looking after the baby alongside his mother, while Eingardt spent more time amongst the townfolk, straining his ears for any news. He listened as the others described a great battle at sea, one where the Horde was almost pushed back, until the dragons came. Dragons. Of all the wonderful and monstrous creatures he had ever heard of, dragons were by far the fiercest and most enigmatic. And now they followed the bidding of the orcs. His heart plummeted so low he doubted it could get any lower, until he once again found himself hurried into a dense mob, mother, sister and new brother at his side, made to endure the smell of unwashed throng. They made their way to the Capital City of Lordaeron, to live in yet more cramped refugee quarters. Here they were confined as they hadn't been before, but it wasn't very long before the Southshore priest returned to join them with the remnants of the townspeople. He brought with him stories of men with glowing red eyes and dead flesh, utilizing the darkest of magic in service of the Horde. But he spoke also of the strength that the Paladins of the Silver Hand had wielded to resist them and how the Light had stood strong against the darkness. Eingardt couldn't help but notice how he failed to mention that the Light's strength hadn't been quite enough to push the orcs back. The Horde continued to rampage across Lordaeron. Forest trolls had joined them, and apparently they even dared to challenge the distant elvish kingdom. It was as if all the stories Eingardt had once believed in were being torn apart by the onslaught of the Horde. To be a Soldier Soon Eingardt's darkest nightmares had returned to haunt him. Shouting in the streets, bells ringing in the cold air of the morning, soldiers streaming past the quarters all hours of the day and night. Fear intensified in the city, just as before. Tension amongst the people rose as the orcs relentlessly encroached on the walls and this time Eingardt knew that there was no harbour here from which to escape if this city fell. Just as he began to feel the last vestiges of hope leave him, something shifted; the fear began to abate and stories of the might and coordination of the Alliance came through. The orcs had been outflanked by armies from the east and thrust from the gates of the City, even at the very moment of the their cracking. Relief passed through the populace like a wave, and Eingardt felt a growing sense of aspiration within him. He could of think of no better future than to be a soldier in the service of the Alliance. Months passed and stories of the flight of the Horde pervaded the city. The once mighty juggernaut was fractured, with most of the greenskins fleeing back across the sea. The ones who remained were swiftly rounded up, with few exceptions. By a hair's breadth Lordaeron had survived, yet the country was soon made safe once again. In time groups of survivors began to filter out of Capital City and it wasn't long before Eingardt's family joined them. Making their way back to Southshore, they were joined by their priestly benefactor. He brought more stories from the fight against the Horde, of the inspiring power of men like the Lightbringer and General Turalyon. And so Eingardt spent his adolescence in Southshore, once again under the comfort of the priest's safekeeping. Idyllic days they were, at least as he remembered them. His siblings grew quickly and he was always straining to catch stories of the latest developments of the fighting, now on distant fronts. The last holdouts of the Horde had taken refuge in mountains to the south but still the Alliance worked to push them out of Azeroth and back to where they had came from. The orcs that remained had been gathered into camps to languish, though Eingardt wondered why they had even been granted this mercy after the raw savagery they had shown time and time again. Rumour even came that one of the camp overseers had made one of the beasts his pet and intended to train him to fight in the combat ring, a ridiculous notion and scarcely one to believe. As Eingardt grew into a young man he decided to honour his father's profession and entered into an apprenticeship with the blacksmith. Working the forge came naturally to him, as did the training in swordplay he would secretly attend with a few other lads after each day of work. His tutelage with the priest however, was not so smooth. He did found value in the lessons of the three virtues but when it came to the invocations and exhortations of the Light his mind would never clear as it seemed it should. Both of their frustrations grew and while both his siblings were excelling in the development of their faith, Eingardt's heart always turned away. His dreams were filled with charging orcs, billowing smoke and wailing children, and the ever-present desire to return to his combat training. His wish to one day fight with honour in the grand army of the Alliance was unwavering. If only the unity of the Alliance was as unwavering. The kingdoms of Lordaeron began to grumble of the expense of keeping the orcs interred, something Eingardt could commiserate with. Yet amongst their complaints was the cost of the refounding of Stormwind, and this was where his belief in the Alliance began to crack. These other kingdoms looked only to their own needs and security, they withheld support except in the most advantageous of circumstance. Their cowardice angered Eingardt, yet he threw himself further into his combat training. More young townsmen had joined their sparring group, which inevitably meant the unwanted attention of the local authorities. As a foremost figure amongst the folk it rested on the priest to deal with the issue before it escalated. Production quotas were beginning to slip and the nobles were sure to take notice of groups of peasants and craftsmen spending their time training for war. Yet their conversation took a turn Eingardt had not expected. Instead of admonishing him, the priest instead advised him. He understood what drove the violent zeal in Eingardt's heart, and remarked that it would be better to seek to temper it than to quench it. And so the man from whom Eingardt had felt so disconnected soon became one of his greatest role models. It turned out that he had picked up a lot of practical fighting experience protecting the injured and sick from the Horde in the last war and he strove to impart that knowledge. Together they would train late into the night, always ending with a lesson on the three virtues, and when Eingardt was caught passing on fighting techniques to other boys he would cover for him. As the Alliance gradually splintered, Eingardt's future was less certain. He advanced in his apprenticeship but wondered if perhaps instead of one day enlisting as a soldier he should try to return to his homeland and establish a life there, maybe even find a wife of his own. The priest had been called off to combat a growing plague in the Eastweald and Eingardt awaited his return, eager for his input on the potential for the future. Death Rises Yet news from the northern reaches of Lordaeron were dire, as the plague refused to relent. Worse still, stories of the dead rising again to menace those who still lived spread hardly faster than the sickness itself. Eingardt wondered what had became of the priest but no message came through to them as yet. He began to discuss a return to Stormwind with his mother and siblings. Though he was loathe to flee his home yet again, the enemy this time was something beyond anything he had prepared for. For weeks the debate raged in his heart, to stay and fight the growing undead masses that swept Lordaeron, or to protect his family on their return back overland to the home they had left long ago. Finally, a message came through, the priest had written to them as he lay dying of plague near Andorhal. He wrote of the pride and love he had for each of the three siblings, and the joy that they and their mother had brought him. He also wrote of a place for them under the newly established Brotherhood of Northshire and implored Eingardt to see them through safely to the abbey. With a clear destination finally in mind Eingardt and his family sought out the next outgoing settler caravan and, with the last of their coin and precious possessions, found themselves once again amongst a train of people all fleeing the encroaching horrors of war. The journey south was not altogether easy, but they made it in the end. Moving down through Khaz Modan and approaching Stormwind through the Redridge mountains, they found themselves eventually on the road west through Elwynn forest. Their mother was quiet as they moved slowly beneath the crisp canopy of leaves, even Eingardt could hardly recall his few times accompanying his parents into the forest. Winding up past the villages and through the Northshire gate they were greeted by an achingly idyllic landscape. The enclosed valley called them to it with it's broad trees and the invigorating fragrance of distant orchards. This was the place to build a life. Over the coming months they settled into their places in the Abbey. Eingardt took up occasional work with the smith, while also finding work as a training partner with the local guards. His sister Telle found herself often in the library studying under the scholars there as well as, when the need arose, using her burgeoning affinity with the Light to lift the spirits and mend the wounds of the battered guards. Jeraziah, their younger brother, though not quite yet come to manhood, was already displaying an incredible rapport with the Light. It seemed to shine from within him and solidify his will and sense of purpose. Eingardt encouraged and guided his martial training, while his sister did the same for his understanding of the Light. The years came and went quickly in this secluded and secure part of the world, where little report of the broader world made it's way in. Even still, stories of the fall of Lordaeron managed to find their way to the ears of those in the valley; of how the King's own son, a mighty paladin no less, had fallen into darkness and overthrew both his father and his people. They could only hope that those they had known from the now distant country had escaped from a fate worse than death. And as time went on the tales somehow got darker, tales of living fire raining from the sky, fire that arose and fought with the purist malice. Demon hordes on distant shores and the crumbling of the once mighty city of Dalaran to dust, overcome by sorcery the likes of which had never been seen. When at last there came good news to hear, of the discovery of an ancient and mysterious race of elves and how they had banded together with both the Alliance and Horde in defiance of demons large and small, Eingardt and his siblings were too preoccupied to appreciate it. Their mother lay sick, cloistered in her bed inside the Abbey, slowly dying. The head priests declared there was nothing to be done for her, that a lifetime of pain and fear had taken it's toll and that her time had simply come. As always his siblings were understanding of the mysteries of the Light, but Eingardt could only see the Light's true impotence on display once again. Slowly but gracefully their mother passed on and the peace of the valley seemed to have been taken with her. Without really realizing it Eingardt's mind had started to wander into the lands beyond Northshire and he often found his feet taking him closer to the gate. Yet he still felt he could not leave behind what family he had left. His moment came when the Marshal and his deputy put out a call for enlisting volunteers to assist the Stormwind guards in keeping the lands secure from the many threats that pressed in. Initially he had dismissed the idea, but his siblings had approached him and revealed their intent to enlist as well, they had all heard the rumours of political corruption among the nobles and the growing need in the lands under the banners of Stormwind. Though they both still had as yet untended business in the abbey they had perceived Eingardt's restlessness and not only encouraged but insisted in his enlisting as a way out into the broader world. It was as if they shared a vision of a long road into a triumphant future for him, but he felt as if he could barely see beyond arm's reach. Nevertheless he soon found himself with his few belongings carefully packed away and standing in front of the deputy Willem, ready to begin a fresh chapter in a tale all his own...Category:Human